12:05 pm: Denver to Charlotte, NC.
6:20 pm: Charlotte to Paris
Or at least that was the plan.
Around 7:30 am though, we received simultaneous emails informing us that the first flight was delayed and would arrive in Charlotte at 6:19 pm. American Airlines informed us positively that they would be in contact if the delay was going to cause a missed connection.
How could it not? I'm no rocket scientist but then again it doesn't take a rocket scientist to work out that if your flight arrives at 6:19 and the connection leaves at 6:20, there is a higher than likely probability you'll be next seen in the "missed her connection" queue at customer service, Charlotte airport.
Yet AA had not been in contact with us.
Wait for the call, or take matters into ones own hands and call them to rebook on a flight that would take us to Paris today? CALL!
Our customer service lady was unmotivated, less than creative and bursting with canned politeness. She made it sound like she'd be doing us a favor by rebooking us on the same flight tomorrow... a 24 hour delay! I asked for alternative. Then for an alternative ticketing rep. Now we were getting somewhere.
Soon enough we were booked on a British Airways flight to Paris, via Heathrow, direct out of Denver. And despite that ticket agents best effort to shorten or otherwise ruin our trip, we were excited once again. (Mark and I discovered that she booked us in seats that were rows apart but we're able to get reassigned during check-in.)
It was scheduled to depart at 7:20 pm... and left closer to 8:20 pm.
Another missed connection? Not likely. Our 4 hour lay over was probably going to be more like 1.5 hours when all was said and done, but that was A-OK with us - especially me, since my attitude adjusting medication was taking effect. I'm now blogging on the plane with a glass of wine, 15 minutes post Ambien consumption!
Update: Heathrow greeted us with a gift of fluorescent orange speedy connection cards. This allowed us to skip the lines through security (more diligent than the U.S) and boarding. We are on time and on the final leg to Charles de Gaulle.
Update: Upon arrival in Paris we worked our way quickly to baggage claim. It was about this time I heard my name being butchered/ called over the intercom and I was summoned to customer services. They regretted to inform me that my bag was still in London, but assured me that it would arrive in the next few hours and would be delivered to our apartment. Then I watched Mark carrying my Camino pack over... And the penny dropped. My pack had made it but our large suitcase, with all of Mark's stuff and most of mine, was lost in transit. Eh, could be worse. We certainly didn't have plans to be out tonight, so expecting a suitcase delivery wasn't going to ruin anything.
One train and one subway ride later - along with the usual directions and ticketing dramas that go with the arrival of exhausted travelers to a foreign land, we were tucked up in our 400 square foot studio apartment. Like all good Parisian accommodation, we were steps from a bistro, patisserie and underground stations. And it wasn't long before we were fed, showered and congratulating ourselves on our good fortune!
Tomorrow, the tourist activities begin!
6:20 pm: Charlotte to Paris
Or at least that was the plan.
Around 7:30 am though, we received simultaneous emails informing us that the first flight was delayed and would arrive in Charlotte at 6:19 pm. American Airlines informed us positively that they would be in contact if the delay was going to cause a missed connection.
How could it not? I'm no rocket scientist but then again it doesn't take a rocket scientist to work out that if your flight arrives at 6:19 and the connection leaves at 6:20, there is a higher than likely probability you'll be next seen in the "missed her connection" queue at customer service, Charlotte airport.
Yet AA had not been in contact with us.
Wait for the call, or take matters into ones own hands and call them to rebook on a flight that would take us to Paris today? CALL!
Our customer service lady was unmotivated, less than creative and bursting with canned politeness. She made it sound like she'd be doing us a favor by rebooking us on the same flight tomorrow... a 24 hour delay! I asked for alternative. Then for an alternative ticketing rep. Now we were getting somewhere.
Soon enough we were booked on a British Airways flight to Paris, via Heathrow, direct out of Denver. And despite that ticket agents best effort to shorten or otherwise ruin our trip, we were excited once again. (Mark and I discovered that she booked us in seats that were rows apart but we're able to get reassigned during check-in.)
Another missed connection? Not likely. Our 4 hour lay over was probably going to be more like 1.5 hours when all was said and done, but that was A-OK with us - especially me, since my attitude adjusting medication was taking effect. I'm now blogging on the plane with a glass of wine, 15 minutes post Ambien consumption!
Update: Heathrow greeted us with a gift of fluorescent orange speedy connection cards. This allowed us to skip the lines through security (more diligent than the U.S) and boarding. We are on time and on the final leg to Charles de Gaulle.
Update: Upon arrival in Paris we worked our way quickly to baggage claim. It was about this time I heard my name being butchered/ called over the intercom and I was summoned to customer services. They regretted to inform me that my bag was still in London, but assured me that it would arrive in the next few hours and would be delivered to our apartment. Then I watched Mark carrying my Camino pack over... And the penny dropped. My pack had made it but our large suitcase, with all of Mark's stuff and most of mine, was lost in transit. Eh, could be worse. We certainly didn't have plans to be out tonight, so expecting a suitcase delivery wasn't going to ruin anything.
One train and one subway ride later - along with the usual directions and ticketing dramas that go with the arrival of exhausted travelers to a foreign land, we were tucked up in our 400 square foot studio apartment. Like all good Parisian accommodation, we were steps from a bistro, patisserie and underground stations. And it wasn't long before we were fed, showered and congratulating ourselves on our good fortune!
Tomorrow, the tourist activities begin!
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